


An Idiot's Guide to Holding Hands

by Nautilusopus



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I AM STILL NOT DONE SCREAMING ABOUT HOW CLOUD LOVES HIS FRIENDS, Post-Series, Unconditional Love, crisis core and dirge are still not canon, has not been beta'd, here have more fucking schmaltz, human contact, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nautilusopus/pseuds/Nautilusopus
Summary: It takes Cloud a while to get used to the fact that he can just... touch people. Whenever he wants.He still hasn't fully internalised the idea.





	An Idiot's Guide to Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **OH WHOOPS THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT AUGUST '17**
> 
> Then I got sidetracked by a piss joke for eight months. 
> 
> Here's one last buffer fic before I update _The Number I_ again (sorryyyyy). Things are really hectic right now. 
> 
> Anyway here's some fucking moron trying to stealth-friend.

Barret still scares him, just a little. He's never offered anything but kindness to Marlene or Denzel or Tifa, or even Cid, but Cloud still recalls his early contempt for him. Not that it hadn't been earned. But it's there, and it happened, and he doesn't know how to approach him. Anything he could say about what he wants would sound stupid, at best.

So he pretends it's an accident at first -- he sits maybe a little bit too close, and allows himself to slowly shift closer over the course of the conversation, and while Barret is distracted he closes the distance. Then he's there, sitting against him, and he's very sturdy and a bit warm, and for a fleeting moment he's leaning against someone else, and it's everything he ever dreamed, everything he hasn't felt in years, since he left Ma, since Zack died, and it's even better than he remembers it. When Barret starts to notice, he pulls away, as though it were an accident.

Barret must have noticed, he realises one day, when he carefully begins edging his way closer to him and is instead grabbed under his arm and pulled closer. Something powerful tugs in his chest, and _this_ is what he missed since losing Ma and Zack, and he never wants him to let go. He's still stunned by the time Barret does, and Barret just rolls his eyes and goes back to talking like nothing happened. He still doesn't ask Barret after that, but if he sits close enough, he usually doesn't have to.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he tries to touch Cid, he's laughed at.

He's still new at this, and he tries the trick he used with Barret. Cid notices right away, though, and pulls away, grinning and pointing out how ridiculous it would be if Cloud had really been trying to... well, Cloud didn't really know what he'd wanted anyway. Maybe just to sit against him. It hurts, but Cloud nods and laughs anyway, doing his best to agree that of course he didn't want to be sitting right next to Cid. Most people didn't spend years and years dreaming of being touched. He didn't want Cid thinking he was being needy. That wasn't a good way to make friends.

The next time they visit, Cid sits right next to Cloud instead and ruffles his hair. Something must have shown on his face that time, too, because he does it again the next day, and the day after that.

 

* * *

 

 

Cloud's never had a sister before. He thought he might have sort of had a brother, with Zack. He imagines having a sister would probably be the same. He remembers wanting siblings when he was younger. There was only one bed in their house, of course, so they'd all have to sleep together in order to fit. It would probably be a lot less lonely, with a brother and a sister. And they'd be like him, so he wouldn't stick out as much. And they'd always watch each other's backs if one of them got into trouble. Or got picked on by one of the corporals that was good two heads taller than him. Or got lost, or...

Yuffie was usually the one in trouble, he noticed. And she fought with him a lot more than he'd imagined his made-up sister would. And she annoyed him, and he'd bother her on purpose in retaliation.

He'd been right about other parts, though. They both liked materia, even if she tended to steal anything she decided was good. And as good as she was at relentlessly mocking him, she was better at relentlessly mocking anyone else that tried it besides her. And he had been right about how nice it was to be curled up with her on his shabby bedroll, or the couch in her room, or against a tree because they had both been too tired to stay awake on watch duty.

When he grabs her one day and pulls her into a hug that has her shoving away after a moment, complaining he's nearly smothered her, and then rolls her eyes and throws her arms around him anyway , he figures he's probably doing something right.

 

* * *

 

 

He never has to feel worried with Nanaki, at least.

They have an understanding: keep things nice and uncomplicated. Cloud hates complication, and Nanaki hates unnecessary details.

Nanaki also hates people touching his tail. That’s another thing that’s easy for him to understand. Another thing they have in common. The touching thing, not the tail.

They both seem to enjoy sprawling out into a pile of blankets and pillows, rather than using a bed properly. Once they figured that out, too, it wasn’t uncommon for them to sleep together. For ease of arrangement, obviously. It was a good thing Nanaki was so straightforward in figuring out what needed to be done. Simple. Uncomplicated.

And once they’d figured that out, it was easy enough from there to discover that Nanaki’s stomach made an excellent pillow, and that if Cloud positioned himself just so he was in a perfect position to scratch Nanaki’s ears. He wasn’t picky about which one he preferred, just as Cloud wasn’t picky about Nanaki occasionally rolling over on him, the low rumbling sound of his purring overlapping with the steady noise of his heart, lulling him to sleep. Neither one of them minded -- Nanaki was very soft, and according to him, Cloud was naturally very warm.

It’s the best way to go about things, so that’s how they go about things. It only made sense.

 

* * *

 

 

Aeris had never been afraid to touch him. Aeris had never been much afraid of anything, but especially not of other people, and definitely not of him. She hadn't been afraid to get in his face and yell at him, that was for sure. Or make fun of him when he tried to separate off from the group, or rolled his eyes at something he'd decided was stupid. Or call him over when he did leave, unafraid of what he'd say in return.

Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him when she was unafraid of grabbing his hand and pulling him places -- into a frog-filled swamp, to show him how high the water went before she inevitably got her boots stuck in the mud. Or into an old root cellar filled with old jars of herbs and medicinal leaves and preserves, sitting under Cosmo Canyon for decades before she'd decided it was worth exploring. Or into a gondola with her, to see the sky light up with fireworks -- real fireworks, that Cloud had been too stunned by everything to try and hide the fact that he'd never seen them before in person. Always leading him somewhere, showing him places he’d never really thought to look, her fingers laced through his.

All places she wanted him to be, with her, and so she'd grabbed his hand and made him a part of it. Maybe he'd been too afraid to ask her to, but she hadn't.

 

* * *

 

There was something about Vincent that made Cloud a little wary to approach him. The way he never _quite_ seemed to stand next to anyone, the way the cape created an actual barrier between him and everyone else. Even when they’d finally convinced him to start wearing actual, real clothes, it was very hard to feel close to a man in a business suit. Everything about him said “look, don’t touch”.

Sometimes he worries Vincent doesn’t really like them very much. He knows how stupid it is to consider -- the man risked his life for them for months on end across all five continents. Of course he likes them. But it’s hard to tell. He never smiles, never calls. He cares for them to some degree, he supposes, but perhaps he just isn’t as close to Cloud as Cloud feels to him.

That day in the church had seemed like any other day with Vincent -- he could see him standing slightly apart, keeping to a shadow off to the side as his family swarmed around him, not minding how drenched he was, how little he had to say to anyone that wouldn’t sound insincere after everything that had just happened.

The last thing he expects in the world is for Vincent to approach him with an expression on his face that Cloud doesn’t recognise, especially because it’s been so long he’s seen an expression of _any_ sort on Vincent’s face.

“I appreciate your return,” he says. “I thought of you often.”

“Wh -- you did?” asks Cloud, and he knows the genuine surprise is there in his voice, and maybe it’s a little rude -- alright, it’s definitely a lot rude, because Vincent’s expression has changed to yet another emotion (he can’t place this one either), and he just stares at him for what feels like an eternity.

Cloud shrugs, as though it wasn’t something he spent all that much time thinking about, and before he can get another word in Vincent is hugging him -- an honest-to-god, painfully tight hug that’s just a little bit stiff and a little bit uncomfortable. From Vincent.

Cloud is too stunned to hug back, and Vincent steps back, impassive as ever, before Cloud quickly grabs him and pulls him into an embrace of his own.

 

* * *

 

 

When they finally meet Reeve in person, Cloud isn’t quite ready for it.

He’s a different man than he remembers, watching him for the first time through a vent in the ceiling. His eyes are more weary, his gaze more open. A small smile plays about his lips, as though he’s amused by the circumstances somehow. His face is covered in powdered drywall and ash, but even beneath that he seems tired and greyed despite his age.

He doesn’t say anything -- just shake’s Cloud’s hand. A good, firm handshake that he doesn’t let go of right away. He still smiles proudly, looking at Cloud as though he understands why. What’s he proud of? Cloud isn’t really sure how to ask, and so he doesn’t, as usual.

It isn’t the last time he does it, though. Reeve comes over for lunch, on occasion, and always offers the same handshake. Cloud has figured out how to return it by now, eyes now finally locked with Reeve’s, with a smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

 

He still isn't used to Tifa touching him.

There are little moments that he's come to expect as part of the routine -- a peck on the cheek, a hug goodbye. Actual sex, on the rare occasions they manage to plan it out. That's certainly taken a lot of getting used to. His "condition" makes it difficult, and there's all sorts of things they have to take into account -- protection, fluid contact, the time of the month, position. But still, these are all normal, expected things that come from having... a partner? He isn't really sure what to call it. He knows he's meant to do them, and there's still a little nagging twinge of anxiety that perhaps he isn't doing them well enough. Should he touch more? Less? Does he stare too much? He can never figure out how to say "I love you" without it sounding dumb and cheesy, and so he usually doesn't. He knows he's supposed to do that, too. She's had other partners before she found him at the train station. Is he enough like them? Is this normal?

He falls asleep at the bar one day, trying and failing to manage work on his own with nothing but stale coffee and stubbornness. He's shaken awake by Tifa, and is immediately filled with dread, because maybe she thinks he's been drinking, and now he's gone and worried her for no reason, and there'll be a talk about it in the morning about how she really can't afford to keep sacrificing her own mental welfare for his, and that he isn't making progress fast enough -- but all she does is ask him about how uncomfortable the bar stool is and wonder if he wants to sleep in an actual bed.

He's exhausted, though, and just nods when she's finished talking. He tells her he'll sleep in a little. He doesn't want to intrude. He's too tired to know what the right thing to do is here, so he just stares at her looking lost.

It takes him a moment after it's happened to realise she's picked him up. Maybe if someone were watching they'd make fun of him, but he's too tired to think about that and it's just... nice. Maybe there isn't a right thing to do when you're this tired.

It's nice when she carries him to her bed as well, instead of his own room, and it's nice when he's permitted to crawl under the covers and fall back asleep almost immediately.

It's not until he wakes up again that he considers that maybe it wasn't normal. But for the first time, it's what feels right, and maybe that's good enough.

 

* * *

 

 

He visits the church often. Zack’s sword is better off here than gathering rust in the wasteland. He comes here when it’s his turn to tend to the flowers, but for some reason it’s him that he thinks of when he does it.

Zack had never really done all that much for him in the days before Nibelheim, now that he thought about it. In fact, looking back, he’d barely done anything at all. Smiled at him a lot. Told him about his day. Asked Cloud about his own. Said his name. Looked at him, sometimes, while he was doing all of these things.

And yet… it had meant every bit as much as the blood he’d spilled. He had never realised how badly he had wanted someone to look at him and smile until one day, by chance, he’d been pulled aside and told that if he kept shooting his gun like that he was gonna take his own eye out with the recoil. And then he’d laughed -- it was strange, to hear him laughing at him and not feel hurt -- and asked his name…

It was like being blind his entire life, and suddenly he was able to see. He hadn’t realised no one had ever given him these things until he had them, and suddenly he couldn’t imagine a single second of his life without it -- without someone looking at him, saying his name -- his name, Cloud, who he was -- he was nothing. Why would Zack say his name? Why would Zack smile at him? Why would Zack touch him? Acknowledge he was there? Why would Zack care that he was alive?

He’d seen him, that day, for the first time. Someone had seen him. Someone had seen him, and seen something worth seeing.

Something aches inside him, deep and steady. It’s been years, and it’s still there sometimes, during times like these, when things are quiet and still and no one else is around. If he isn’t careful, he’ll trick himself into thinking that now that Zack’s gone, he’s alone again.

He wipes the dirt from his hands and leaves the church. He drives his bike through a city filled with thousands of people, moving past one another, each one seeing, having been seen, every one of them with a name. He pulls up alongside the lower floor of the Seventh Heaven Bar and Grill, and he steps inside to find someone waiting for him. A friend. They wave him over, their hand on his skin, and they call his name.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I figure I owe you guys this, considering.
> 
> EDIT: I forgot Denzel exists again whoops
> 
> there he gets a throwaway line, i'm not writing him a chunk i am TIRED


End file.
